


honeyed

by Moransroar



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Public Nudity, Romantic Fluff, Skinny Dipping, Summer Vacation, Teen Peter Parker, Teen Romance, Teen Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moransroar/pseuds/Moransroar
Summary: Peter is on summer vacation in France with a few of his friends, and has a crush on a guy with a guitar, beautiful eyes, and the loveliest voice he's ever heard.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88
Collections: Starker Festivals Events





	honeyed

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the starkerfestivals summer bingo, filling my prompt "skinny dipping". Enjoy!

Peter always loved the nights the most.

When the temperature cooled enough to be bearable, with a warm breeze and a dark sky littered with stars, that was when he was most at ease. Happy.

He’d never really gone on vacation out the country before, let alone out of state, and while he’d been skeptical at first when his friends suggested they go to France, of all places, he was glad that he’d eventually agreed.

The country was stunning, the weather was great, and they were lucky enough to have found a campsite that offered all kinds of entertainment, from nighttime discos to pool parties to campfires on the beach. Granted, the latter wasn’t necessarily organized by the campsite itself, but they happened, and they happened frequently.

Every night, they would gather on the beach, and start another fire. And every night, campsite-goers would swarm the fires they created, with music and drinks and games.

Peter liked those nights all the better because of one person who never failed to show up.

He seemed, to Peter, like the kind of person who got along with everyone, but didn’t really appear to have any actual friends. Which sounded sad, and maybe it was, but that’s just what Peter observed. Everyone loved him, and everyone wondered where he was when he didn’t show up with that signature smile and his guitar, but aside from that…

Peter liked to watch him while he played.

He wasn’t _really_ the type to drink and party like the rest clearly was. Instead, he preferred to keep to himself a little bit, maybe drink a beer and enjoy the lower, actually bearable temperatures while he sat by the fire and listened to whatever music was on.

Tonight, there were two fires, a little way’s apart from each other. One fire was surrounded by people drinking excessively, listening to loud music blaring from a speaker someone had brought along, and chatting loudly. And while that could be fun, too, Peter gravitated toward the other campfire instead. There, people sat chatting quietly among themselves, lounging around the pit in the center and watching the guy with his guitar.

Peter had understood that he was Italian, from his friend MJ. She’d done some asking around after she’d caught Peter staring. His name was Tony, and he was there because of a business trip his parents were on.

He often wondered how long he’d be staying for. To be honest, Peter knew he’d be kind of sad if Tony just stopped showing up to these nightly parties one day.

He sat down in the sand and was passed a beer almost instantly, which gave him a sense of belonging that he’d only ever really felt here. He’d made friends very quickly, far quicker than back in New York. Maybe France had that effect on a person, because that really wasn’t usually him. God knows he was bullied more often than he cared to admit.

But that’s not what he wanted to think about. Not when Tony was playing, sending soft, gentle tunes his way, across the fire between them.

Peter was positively mesmerized. It was safe to say that was a good enough word to use. Entranced, head leaned in his hand, elbow on his knee, staring through the flames to where Tony was sitting, guitar on his lap and hand strumming almost absent-mindedly. It seemed to cost him no effort, and Peter was almost jealous. Especially his voice was lovely, although he didn’t often sing very loudly, so Peter had to strain his ears in order to hear.

Of course he could just sit closer. But… Yeah. He couldn’t say he was confident enough to just get up and drop himself down in the available space next to him.

Lost in thought, Peter barely noticed how Tony glanced up from where he’d been looking down at his guitar, and flashed Peter a smile when their eyes met. Clearly he’d felt Peter’s eyes on him, and now Peter’s face was warm, and it had nothing to do with the fire burning just a few feet away from him.

Peter smiled back, and averted his gaze until Tony looked back down at his guitar, and he could safely return to staring at him. Maybe he should have realized that if it happened a first time, it might happen again – but Peter didn’t even consider the possibility until Tony looked up again a minute or so later, his smile wider this time, eyes crinkling beautifully at the corners.

Ugh.

Peter hated getting crushes.

He could easily admit when he had them, to himself at least, but they never worked out in his favor. And they definitely weren’t going to work out for him now. But again, Peter glanced away, and cursed himself a little bit for allowing that to happen a second time.

And yet it happened a third time, a few minutes later. Peter had lulled himself into a false sense of security by looking at the label on his beer bottle for a little while, picking at it until it came loose under the condensation, and then he deemed it safe enough to spare another glance.

The second he looked up, however, he caught Tony looking at him, this time. He flashed a quick smile, and took a large swig of his beer to distract himself. He should have probably made a quick escape right then, call it a night, but he didn’t want to seem like he was fleeing. Even if he was. He wouldn’t.

Tony’s song came to an end, and Peter clapped a hand halfheartedly against the side of his bottle to show his appreciation. Others did the same, and someone even whistled. Peter didn’t notice how Tony got up, but if he had he would have probably assumed he was leaving.

Peter had always, secretly, wanted to walk him back to his tent. Maybe he’d find the courage to stand and do so some time. But not tonight.

Tonight, Tony dropped down into the sand next to him, guitar discarded somewhere, beer in his hand and a smile on his face. Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up expecting to find MJ, or Ned, or _anyone else_ , but was instead met with kind, dark eyes and a honeyed smile. His heart leapt just having Tony so close.

“Hey,” he said, and Peter stared. “I’m Tony.”

“Hi,” Peter managed to squeak out, offering his hand, which in hindsight was so very stupid he’d be thinking about it for days. But Tony graciously took it, and squeezed it gently, and Peter was on the verge of melting.

“You are…?” Tony coaxed.

“Peter,” he blurted out quickly, and grimaced out an awkward smile, “Sorry. I’m Peter.”

“I saw you looking. A couple times.” Great, Peter thought, emphasize on how strange that must have been. “You like my music?”

For someone people had insisted was Italian, Tony spoke with little to no accent. If anything, he sounded American. But his voice… Peter could listen to that on repeat for the rest of his life and die happy by the end of it. Was that extreme? Yes it was. But it was absolutely, 100% true. He’d known him officially for maybe ten seconds, and already Peter knew that he’d be thinking about him for years to come.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, “It’s… Very soothing. You’re a very good player.”

“Thanks,” Tony chuckled, “You know you can request songs if you want me to play anything specific. Right? I’d love to play something for you.” 

Either there was a bit of a language barrier there, or Tony genuinely meant that he wanted to play a song for Peter, specifically. Peter tried to convince himself that it was the language barrier, had to be, but a little voice in the back of his mind was secretly smug that someone like him might have caught the attention of someone like Tony, something that was really a once in a lifetime experience.

Peter looked down, feeling suddenly shy. Or, shier than before, anyway. “I’ll have to think about it,” he said. Tony leaned over, and nudged his shoulder with his own, making Peter smile.

“You think about it.”

Tentatively, they chatted for a little while, keeping conversation light. Peter told Tony about his trip with his friends, and Tony told him about his parents’ business in the big city just a few miles away, and that he’d insisted they let him stay somewhere a little more private – hence how he’d ended up here. Peter assumed he must have had one of those little furnished houses on one side of the campsite, all luxury that he and his friends couldn’t afford.

Sleeping in a tent was fun, and cooking on this little gas stove was also quite adventurous, but Peter sometimes missed the comfort of a normal bed and a normal kitchen with normal appliances. He didn’t want to complain though. He was likely never going to be going on another trip like this again. Not for a long while, anyway.

Time ticked by, but Peter barely noticed how late it was getting. It felt like he was in his own private bubble together with Tony, talking quietly and nursing their beers while the sea nearby lapped at the sand, and people around them talked quietly among themselves, just like they were doing.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Until Tony started to get to his feet.

For a moment, Peter thought that he was going to call it a night. He didn’t think he’d had enough time chatting with him yet, and he didn’t want the night to end like that, so abruptly, with Tony leaving him behind to sit by himself in the sand once again while Ned played card games with some friends he’d made back at their tent, and MJ was off drinking with this girl she’d met over at the other campfire.

But Tony held out his hand to Peter, and Peter took it confusedly, letting Tony pull him to his feet.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he suggested out of the blue, and Peter blinked at him. Before he could say anything, Tony had already turned to the others, and announced his plan to the rest. People looked up with interest, and some started getting to their feet as well.

“But I don’t have my trunks on me,” Peter protested to Tony, who just grinned at him, and started pulling him toward the sea by the hand he had yet to let go.

“You don’t need shorts, Pete. C’mon. It’s dark, no one’s gonna see. And the water’s the perfect temperature at this time of night.”

That, he had to admit to, was true. Peter had gone and dipped his toes into the water before, and it was still slightly warm from the day’s sun, but a little bit more on the cool side. Perfect after the scorching heat they’d experienced during the day.

Peter let Tony tug him along toward where the sea crashed waves against the land. Some people followed after them, but it was Tony that Peter only had eyes for. And, maybe he was mistaken, but Peter felt like he was the only person Tony was looking at, too.

Tony wasted no time taking off his clothes while Peter stood by, equal parts mesmerized and terrified. He’d never gone skinny dipping before, and definitely not with someone he was into the way he was into Tony.

But Tony’s confidence was kind of infectious. He tossed his shirt to the ground and immediately pushed his shorts down and stepped out of his underwear shortly after, even twisting around to Peter to look him up and down and notice that he hadn’t even taken his shirt off yet.

“C’mon, Petey. See you in the water?”

Peter couldn’t reply. He was too busy watching Tony’s ass retreat, and disappear beneath the waves as he entered the water and almost immediately took a dive.

He knew that it was now or never.

So, with a surge of confidence he’d never felt before, Peter quickly started taking off his clothes, and the second he was naked he hurried into the water.

It was definitely very different from swimming during the day. But that didn’t mean that it was bad, necessarily. The water was lukewarm, almost on the side of a little cool, and it seemed even quieter out there. As if the thumping music from the other campfire was even farther away than usual. Maybe the sound of the waves swallowed it up.

Peter looked up at the moon hanging overhead when he couldn’t find Tony for a second, wanting to memorize this moment. He wanted to keep it forever. Whatever happened tonight, it would have been fun, and he would have spent some time with Tony, which was honestly a dream.

The other boy resurfaced a couple of feet away and when he turned and found Peter and _grinned_ at him, Peter knew he was a goner.

Tony’s hair was dripping, stuck to his forehead before he slicked it back with a hand. From where Peter was standing he could see that little droplets gathered on his lashes, making them appear thicker than usual, framing his eyes in a way that had Peter positively stunned. Peter couldn’t do much but stand still and watch as Tony approached, wading slowly through the water until he was just a few feet away. And there was that hand again, palm up in offering, until Peter put his own on top and allowed Tony to pull him in deeper until his feet barely touched the sandy bottom.

Peter’s other hand, as if on its own volition, moved up to Tony’s shoulder to brace himself. Tony wasn’t taller than him, but it was still good to be able to hold on, keep himself grounded. Peter’s heart skittered when he felt Tony’s free hand on the small of his back, which he quickly realized was tugging him in even more, until they were practically chest-to-chest.

Peter suddenly became hyperaware of the fact that he was naked, but if Tony knew that, he didn’t seem to care. The hand on his back was still pressing, the water making their movements slow, but inevitably, Peter felt their chests touch, and he swallowed heavily as their hips did, too, only a moment later.

Now both of Tony’s hands were on the small of his back, and both of Peter’s hands were on Tony’s shoulders. Peter didn’t have the time or the mental capacity right now to wonder how they got there in the first place, brain too full, short-circuiting when their legs slotted together and Tony just kept looking at him with those large, doe eyes.

Shit.

_Shit_.

Peter let out a soft, shuddery breath that apparently made Tony smile.

The boy leaned in, and pressed that same smile to the corner of Peter’s mouth. All it took to seal their lips in a kiss was for Peter to turn his head just a fraction, and when he’d gotten over the initial shock of everything that was currently happening, he did exactly that.

Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed anyone. And he certainly couldn’t remember it feeling like this.

Tony’s arms wound around his waist more firmly, trapping Peter’s body against his own, which Peter couldn’t say he minded. His own arms snaked around Tony’s neck to keep their lips together for as long as the other boy would allow it – but he was showing no signs of stopping, so Peter didn’t have to worry about that.

Tony licked across the seam of Peter’s mouth, and Peter parted his lips. It was a little bit clumsy, maybe, a little inexperienced, but Peter could follow Tony’s lead, and make it feel perfect all the same.

Even though Peter knew, logically, that they were surrounded by others, it felt in that moment like it was just the two of them.

They parted only when a particularly strong wave sent them nearly toppling over, and they were both laughing, already reaching for each other again the second they both regained their balance. They didn’t kiss again, but they held onto each other, Peter’s legs around Tony’s waist, and Tony’s hands large, fingers spread, across his back.

It was a good feeling. A great feeling. A feeling that Peter didn’t think he wanted to let go of again.

He’d never kissed a boy under the light of the moon, neck-deep in the sea, naked and tangled together – and he knew that he likely never would again.

Either way, it’s not like it would ever live up to this first time, if it did happen again.

They stayed in the water until their fingers pruned, sticking close and usually touching, and if they parted then it wasn’t long before they found each other again. As if they gravitated toward each other, like the moon pulling on the sea and creating the waves that pushed and pulled at their two bodies.

When they got out and got dressed again, Peter was afraid that the spell was broken. Tony didn’t touch him while they each put their clothes back on, barely even looked at him. But that fear was in vain, useless and unnecessary, because the second they were both dressed, Tony held out his hand again in what was now becoming a familiar gesture.

“You wanna come back to mine?” He asked softly when Peter reached his hand up to put it in his.

Peter twined their fingers together, and tried to ignore the butterflies going wild in the pit of his belly.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod and a barely suppressed smile, “Yeah, I’d love that.”


End file.
